Farewell?

Well as some of you know and many of you probably do not know, my time with the Amy Biehl Foundation has come to an end.  I was on a grant from Omprakash which funded me until the end of June and this past Wednesday was my last official day in the office.  It was pretty surreal and I don't feel like I adequately said goodbye.  You see, it's school holidays now so most of the staff hasn't even been into the office for the last 2 weeks.  I left a rather empty office and a quiet building.

But the people that were there, the core office staff, are some pretty special ladies.  Since it's only been the 4 of us for the last 2 weeks, we've really gotten to know each other on a deeper level.  Cikizwa and I sing in the afternoons, Ilchen and I grab coffee from Kamal (our Somalian friend downstairs), Afiefa and I share sweet treats and Zandi and I trade places as receptionist every time she has to run an errand or two.  It's kind of weird to think about not going back in to ABF everyday, to hear them say my name and to take coffee and sweets orders from them.  It still isn't real.

I guess it will really hit when I go back in a few weeks for my official farewell party with all the staff.  I've now been with ABF for almost a year and these people have become more than coworkers and colleagues, they've become family.  They've received me with open arms, brought me into their lives, their families, their homes, their struggles, their joys and I am all the more richer for that.  They gave me a Xhosa name, they share what they have, they invite me to take courses with them, and they even tried to find me an African man so I wouldn't go home.  They are truly special people.  They're not perfect, and I won't lie, there was plenty of office politics and drama, but they did welcome me and accept me like I was one of their own and for that I am deeply grateful.

As I set off into this next chapter (half marathon in Knysna, South Africa and then up to Mozambique for 8 days) I don't want to forget the education and the love that these people have shown me.  I know now that my family has grown a bit bigger since I left...and includes a lot more people with different colored skin...

It's Not About You...

Just thought I'd share with you guys my most recent post to the Omprakash website.  The director of communications wants to republish it so I'll let you read it here first  :)

"Something I’ve noticed throughout my travels is that volunteering is a huge part of Western culture. It’s almost expected to have some kind of volunteer experience on a resume or CV these days and if you don’t, people even question your dedication. With such an emphasis on building a resume and ensuring that one has some kind of volunteer status, it’s important to take a deeper look at the reasons why you are volunteering.

Do you volunteer because you want to build your resume? To gain valuable experience? To create relationships and network in hopes of a future job? Because of a dedication to a cause? To ‘help others’? Whatever your motive is when you volunteer for any kind of organization, I’ve found that expectations can make or break your experience.

Westerners often come to grassroots organizations in third world areas with the mindset that they have all the answers; that they know how to solve the problems of the organization and community in which they are working. And most volunteers do have new and fresh eyes and an educational background to help out. But are they truly meeting the needs of that community?

Surface level problems will be apparent—lack of water at a school, no clothes or shoes for children, old broken sports equipment, poor gardens, etc. And due to certain backgrounds, you’ll have the capacity to implement certain solutions. They key here is creating solutions with the community you are based in. If you just arrive, create a project, take some pictures, make some friends and then leave—will your work be sustainable? You certainly don’t want it to fall apart after you‘ve gone.

When I came to work for the Amy Biehl Foundation for the second time, I thought I knew what was needed. During my previous volunteer stint with ABF, I saw a place to fill a hole with computer classes in the township; but when I arrived, a greater need had surfaced. You see, all 5 centres urgently needed to be registered due to a new law passed in South Africa. Since most people were busy with other time sensitive projects, I was put in charge of ensuring that the centres were up to date with the new regulations and that all the correct paperwork was in on time. Definitely not what I expected.

Pulling from my one and only semester of Business Law, I poured over legal documents, new laws passed and country-wide regulations to ensure that our Foundation met all relevant criteria. (I didn’t expect to use the English dictionary so much in Africa!) Visiting the centres, talking with principles, teachers and groundskeepers ensured that I kept my Xhosa dictionary handy as well. Several months later and the project has mostly been completed from my side. I’ve liaised with government officials, public servants and people who I never expected to come in contact with---and I’ve learned a lot.

It’s not that my computer class wasn’t a true need. I’m still teaching twice a week and the kids are learning faster than I could’ve imagined. They’re learning. I’m learning. And through the whole thing, the kids are improving their computer skills. It just that the registration took priority over what I had in mind. It makes me wonder how many times I’ve jumped into situations because I thought I knew what was best…

Don’t get me wrong, there are many instances when our perceptions of problems and solutions to those problems are effective and beneficial. And yes, every little bit helps. I guess it all boils down to a few simple things when volunteering abroad:

1. Be flexible—don’t think you always have all the answers all the time.
2. Ask questions—figure out what the true needs of the organization or community are and then use your background and knowledge to come up with solutions.
3. Listen—listen well and uncover the heart of the issues--tackle those.
4. Use your talents to do whatever you can to help. The fact that you’re giving it your all will spur others on to come up with creative solutions and join in your development.

And remember, it’s not about you. But you play a huge part in making things happen--don’t be shy :)"

Leaving

Well this time it was weird.  And by weird, I mean that this week I got to experience the other side of leaving.  Usually, I'm the one leaving for someplace new and exciting.  Leaving for university, leaving for Paris with Barbara, leaving for Cape Town to study, leaving for London with my dad, leaving for Cape Town again, leaving Cape Town to go home, leaving Columbia for STL.....  The trip to the airport usually contains my close family and my suitcases in the backseat.  I'm ready for the next adventure, the beautiful new scenery and the challenges that lie ahead.  And yes, I'm always sad to leave behind people I love, but I also know that modern technology makes communication with them pretty darn easy.

But this time, I wasn't the one leaving.

Yes, we went to the airport, but the backseat didn't have my bags in it. No, this time I had to say goodbye to one of my 3 sisters leaving for my home country.

In a lot of ways, Alyssa and I are alike--same music, same clothes, same nail polish colors, same jewelry, same hair, same faith, same views on life, same love of sugary batter, etc etc.  The only thing that isn't the same is our shoe size (and trust me, that's a huge bummer).  Her leaving means me saying goodbye to my other half.  She finishes my sentences, understands my rambling jargon and doesn't leave when I start dancing in the kitchen.

It's funny, sending her off to the good old US of A...I feel like I'm the one at home saying goodbye to her and wishing her well on her new epic adventure to foreign lands.  Life here will remain the same for us (minus her of course), but she'll be meeting new people, seeing new sights and having new adventures.  It's exciting and I'm SUPER amped and happy for her, but I'll surely be missing my other half.

Guess this is what it's like for my family and friends back home...always having to say goodbye, not knowing when you'll see them again.  It's not exactly fun, but the promise of adventure and learning new things, keep me excited to see where this journey takes my little lizard breath (sorry lyss, I had too:) )

So Bon Voyage my seester!  I can't wait to see where your next adventure takes you, love you and miss you already.

My African Autumn

It's autumn here, but not like autumn in Missouri.  Every now and then, I get a glimpse of what fall looks like in the good old Midwest and today was one of those days...

The leaves here don't burst into color quite like they do in the States, but they do show a bit of evidence that the weather is changing.  The air however, screams the changing of the seasons.  I can see my breath as I make my way to the train station on the misty mornings.  The cool and cloudy days bring crisp breezes filled with the wafting scents of decomposing leaves and fires from the hearth.  On the days when the sun does decide to show its face, the yellow-y sunbeams pierce their way through the remaining leaves on the trees.  Those that have already shown their color and fallen to the ground make a satisfying crunch under my brown leather boots.  On the most brilliant of autumn days, the colors of the air seem to be a bit more orange and the sky a bit more blue.

Autumn is a time to whip out my heavy scarves and remember to bring my rain coat to work (it is the rainy season here, afterall).  It's a time for long walks through the parks on Sunday afternoons (thanks Lyss).  It's a time for Saturday afternoon football (or futbol) games in that old sweatshirt.  Fuzzy slippers, big mugs filled with coffee or tea, warm blankets, chili cook-offs, fresh baked bread and other sweet treats....that cold and runny nose when you walk through town and the early morning fog that the morning train must pierce through all accompany this season.  Nickel Creek or Imogen Heap fill my headphones and I can't seem to get enough of the aptly named Autumn Film Project.

I'm stuck in May, going on November.  Family meals and Thanksgiving should be coming up soon, right? It's days like these when I wish I was back in Columbia, about to hop on my bike and ride down the Katy Trail to the winery on the bluff with my bestie, Becca.  Days like this when I'm reminded of all the times we biked around campus and ended up at Flat Branch for some pumpkin ale to finish off the ride.  Days like this when I wish I could see the splendor of Missouri in fall....

But as I see the changing of the seasons around me here, I can't help but feel a renewed sense of self.  The last few months have been pretty tough in a lot of ways and I feel as though I'm finally pushing out of that season.  This new autumn has ushered in a new outlook on life and a renewed joy in the people and places around me.  And now as I plan for the next steps in my life, I'll sit on the porch with my green mug of apple cinnamon tea and take in the sights and sounds of my African autumn....

Cultural Conundrum

Hundreds of children and adults alike streamed into the building, almost as fast as the water streaming down the road outside.  A little rain wasn’t about to deter this crowd from attending the first ever Mr and Miss Sinako Beauty Pageant.  Masixole had been working on this event for over a month and today was the final product of his hard labor.  Kids chatted with excitement as the dj played their favorite songs to enhance the atmosphere for what was about to unfold.  Many of the guests, in tattered clothing, still wet from the rain outside and many without shoes; had never been to a beauty pageant before, let alone one with contestants from their own community.

I was thrilled that Masi asked me to judge the event.  He was so excited about it, that I couldn’t help but share in his excitement of the event.  In all the hubbub the day, he forgot to make a judging sheet for us to score the contestants---so he asked me to make one up as he was running out of the office to the venue.  I obliged and in true form, the event looked a little bit like controlled pandemonium when I arrived at the center with the two other judges.


The pageant was held in a community centre in the township of Nyanga and I was one of 2 white people in the entire building.  Now, this generally wouldn’t bother me as I’ve become quite comfortable in these situations, but today was different.  Today I was sitting at a table in front of everyone as a judge.  Masi had done a wonderful job of making sure everything was in order and 3 giant plates of food and a jug of juice were brought out for the sole purpose of feeding the judges.

Here’s where my conundrum comes in....

There I sat, in front of hundreds of people who probably didn’t have breakfast and many would go without lunch as well—with a whole plate of food just for me.  I felt guilty even eating one chip. I wasn’t even that hungry...I had a full nutritious breakfast, a great lunch and a coffee break already.  I knew I would go home to a hot meal and I knew there would be leftovers for the next day.  I could tell by the look in some of the kid’s eyes that they wished to have some of the food.  I just wanted to pull the group of little kiddos sitting to my left, over to my side and dish out the goodies to them.  I didn’t need it, they did.  I wasn’t hungry, they were.

On the other hand, if I didn’t eat the food, I would be considered rude for not consuming what I had been given.  Masi and the planning team had specifically prepared a full plate of food for each of the judges and it was his “gift” to say thanks.  It might have been different if there were more people of my own race in the audience...or it might not have made a difference at all.  Either way, I was stuck.  Eat the food that I didn’t need in front of people who did need it or be inconsiderate to the people who took the time to prepare it for us.  What was I to do??


As the event progressed, I battled to make a decision, but I gradually ate a chip here and a cookie there, trying my best to show my courtesy and gratefulness to the effort put before me. The two other judges and myself watched as these proud kids ‘strut their stuff’ across the stage.  Every kid had worked so hard on their costume and the girls, their hair and makeup.  It was such a proud moment for them--choosing the top three was much more of a challenge than I anticipated.

After announcing the winners, the boy who won Mr. Sinako of 2011 stood proudly as all the girls ran up to take a photo with him and flash their eyelashes in hopes of getting a personal smile.  Pushing through all the people, an older woman made her way to the front and wrapped her arms around the boy.  Hugging and kissing him, she started to cry---it was his mother who was extremely proud of him.  What a great experience for mother and son!

During all the craziness of announcing the winners, I was able to give a bit of my plate to some smaller kids hanging out by the judging table before the plates were whisked away.  I don’t know if I did the right thing or not, but at least a few kids had something to eat. As I left the event in my warm and dry car, I watched as others walked home in the rain and once again was hit with the stark reality of poverty and wealth. I hate feeling guilty about what I've been blessed with, but today, I just couldn't shake it. I won't be able to change the whole world, but I certainly will try my best to do what I can while I'm still living in this beautiful and challenging place.

Half Marathon? Check!

The air was chilly and damp.  4.30am came a little too early on this Saturday 'morning' but I awoke with excitement and a bit of nervousness.  Today was the day--the day that my friends and I had been waiting for since October of last year.  Today was the day that we were to conquer the Two Oceans Marathon, the 'most beautiful marathon in the world!'

Bellies full from the previous day's carb-loading with 10 other compadres, Maegan and I jumped up and down to stay warm as we waited for the starting cannon.  I never thought I would sing the South African national anthem with quite so much vigor just before 6am, in the dark, in the middle of Main Road with 14,000 other people...but I did.  And I loved every minute of it :)

The boom from the starting cannon shook the stage and we set off on our journey around the beautiful place that I have come to know as Cape Town.  Then first 45 minutes of the race took place before the sun woke up, but even still, there were supporters all along the route clapping, cheering, and blowing air horns to lift our spirits.  The first 2 kilometers were pretty rough, but after the 2.5 mark, I was good to go.  

Maybe this  is a good time to stop and let you know that I have never run more than 10 kilometers at a time in my entire life.  Most of those 10Ks happened to be on flat ground so attempting this hilly half marathon was certainly something a bit more difficult than previous done.  But as any runner will tell you, there's something about the vibe, the spirit of the runners alongside you, the epic beauty of Cape Town that keeps you pushing forward.

At 11K there's something that Cape Townians like to call, Southern Cross hill.  If there was ever an epic hill, this is it.  1.7 kilometers of straight uphill at the halfway point in the race took more than physical stamina to overcome.  As I tried to run "into and not up the hill" (thanks for that advice, Josh), all kinds of runners were encouraging and pushing each other up to make it to the top.  After reaching the summit, the runners high kicked in and I felt like I could do anything.

The rest of the race was a windy route through the 'redwood' forest of upper Cape Town.  Watching the sunlight rise on Table Mountain, changing from orange and pink to soft yellow and ultimately brilliant sunshine kept my mind off the fact that my feet were throbbing and knees were aching.  They weren't lying when they touted this race the most beautiful marathon.  IT WAS GORGEOUS!!!

As I rounded the last corner, the entire cityscape came in view and hundreds of people had come out to cheer on the last few kilometers.  Turning down the last stretch, I saw 8 of my good friends chanting my name which gave me the much needed push to finish strong.  I have to admit, I did get a bit emotional after crossing the finish line and I was congratulating my fellow runners left and right with, "We did it!!!  We did it!!!"

It's still hard to believe that I ran 21 kilometers last weekend...and that it was all over before 9 in the morning at that!  I had an amazing group of friends supporting at key points along the route and great girls to train and run with.  I can now cross this one off the bucket list, but I think I'll just have to sign up for the next one in Kysna in July....  :)

Note: Fret not, I'll have pictures up as soon as I get them.

A Little Gift Filled with Pride

The Little Giving Rascals

Every year, South Africa hosts an international jazz festival in Cape Town.  On the foothills of Table Mountain, music lovers come from all over to hear the wafting tunes of saxophones, bass guitars and soulful songs fill the southern suburbs as they sip their wine and enjoy their picnic baskets.  Unfortunately, for many South Africans the festival is only a dream as the majority of the population is confined to the informal settlements and townships surrounding the city.  The cruel reality of a first world/third world conundrum is evident on weekends such as this.  Unable to afford the ticket prices, transport, or even a full meal for their family the South African citizens of the townships are left to only imagine what it the jazz festival would be like.  

Until now…

The Amy Biehl Foundation has a strong passion for music and using music as a means to connect with children, to help them express their feelings and develop their skills.  This year, we wanted to bring the internationally acclaimed festival to the people through a fun and entertaining day of song and dance.

After much preparation, securing donations, a venue and catering, the festival was underway.  Guests streamed in to this FREE event as our very own Amy Biehl Foundation marimba band played away.  Their talent, energy and obvious joy of playing these instruments were absorbed into the crowd as they took their seats.  True to African time, the performances started over an hour after the initial start time, but no one seemed to mind at all.

The Milton Jazz Academy came all the way from Boston to provide an outstanding guest performance.  Local well-known jazz artists such as Thembi Mtshali-Jones and Yolanda Yawa graced the stage with their soulful afro-jazz sound.  Amy Biehl Foundation facilitators were given the opportunity to show off their incredible talent by way of an ensemble performance that wowed the crowd.

Even though the event was free, we decided to have a donations box at the entrance to the festival.  Not expecting many donations, I played with local kids while keeping an eye on the box next to me.  These kids were covered in dirt and smelled as if they hadn’t bathed in a while, but they had so much contagious joy and energy!  Making games out of an old soda can and 2 straws, we were entertained for hours as the musicians played away.  As soon as the children saw a few people put money in the donation box, they ran away.  

Confused and little disheartened now that my playmates had left, I sat down at my seat, holding the box.

As I sat, I tried to understand why these children had left so suddenly.  Did they see the time and realize they needed to be somewhere?  Did one child direct the others away?  Was it something I said?  Did a mother call from outside the festival, unknown to my ears?  Still confused, I wondered if I would even see these kids again.  They were so small and needed so much attention and love.

Just as I was getting lost in my thoughts, the group of laughing 7 year olds rounded the corner with smiles big enough to melt any heart of stone.  I watched as each one of them dropped a coin into the donations box.  I explained to them what the donation box meant and where the money was going and they all agreed that they wanted to still give.  These kids have next to nothing, yet they proudly gave the little they had to support.  They were proud to do their part and help the community.

After playing a bit more, the kids left to go home for the day, but I was left with the lasting impression of their gift.  It doesn’t matter how much one has, what matters is that you give what you can—and do so with pride and confidence.   Kind of puts perspective on the time and money we give towards things, doesn’t it?

ABF Facilitators ensemble performance at the Township Jazz Festival